I worry about him. I worry that he is lost in the chaos, that he has given up hope, that he is alone. I worry that his wife is caught in the same turmoil his mother was twenty some years ago. He works outside of Tehran, away from the immediate conflict. But his mind remains tormented. He has too many memories. His mother left him at a very young age and he is sensitive to this kind of trauma.
I worry for him as mother tries to dial his cell. He has been broken too many times and it is as though the revolution continues, after more than twenty years, it still goes on.